


The Misfortune of Fate

by CaptainCorale



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Character Study, Established Relationship, Gay Sex, Isabela/Merrill mentioned, M/M, Mentions of sexual slavery, Mixed POV, On the Run, Past Sexual Abuse, Purple Hawke, Romance, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-04-09 12:24:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4348657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainCorale/pseuds/CaptainCorale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the desolation of Kirkwall, Fenris and Hawke make their escape together. This is the story of their journey from there, of how Hawke goes to The Gallows with everyone and ends up all alone,  of the choices they make together and apart, and of how they build a life all over again. If they made it that far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I'm not at all sure where this story is taking me or where it's going to end up, but I have about 10k written and I thought posting it might inspire me to find a good direction for it. This will eventually be sexually explicit, but this is more of a character study/development/adventure piece rather than a PWP. I would love characterisation feedback, especially for Dorian/Bull.
> 
> If you enjoyed my work, please consider [ buying me a coffee ](http://https://ko-fi.com/cptncorale/) so I can sit and write in coffee shops and be super powered with caffeine!

**The Misfortune of Fate**

Chapter One

“Just grab whatever you can, Fenris,” Hawke called from upstairs.

In a mad frenzy they darted from room to room of the old Amell Estate, shoving whatever they thought might be of use into the large canvas packs they each carried. Fenris was in the kitchen grasping at the food he knew to have the most longevity. There wasn’t much, he thought and grimaced. They would have to get to a market or village soon after fleeing Kirkwall, or face hunting in the wild; neither of them were particularly talented hunters, so that would be another problem to add to the ever growing list that he would have to face later.

 _They,_ he corrected himself. _They_ would face it later _together._ The thought brought a small smile to his face, and a warmth blossomed in his chest. He wouldn't be running away alone this time, he thought and gave himself a small moment to bask in his relief. _He had Hawke_. _Hawke was alive._ His energy renewed, he sped through to the next room to the potions supply cabinet.

As he rammed his bag with lyrium potions, Fenris latently realised he didn't even know if they would head in a direction that might lead to wild game. Hawke hadn’t decided where they planned to flee to yet and that would be the determiner of just how difficult this was going to be for them. But with the commotion still raging in the city, they hardly had the time to pick a direction to go, never mind form a complete plan. They simply had to leave Kirkwall before either Cullen changed his mind, or reinforcements came. _That_ , they did know. Fenris had to get Hawke out of The Free Marches, and that thought alone blinded him to any hindrances that might arise in the future.

However that being said, Fenris hadn’t escaped slavery, killed his former magister master, fallen in love with a fool with no sense of direction, and saved a Circle of _mages_ from a military gone mad just to starve to death on some Maker-forsaken mountain in Ferelden. _No, indeed not!_ None of this was going to be easy and Fenris knew all too well that Hawke would want to stop every ten minutes to help someone. Therefore, Fenris knew he would have to take some degree of charge in ruling over Hawke's charitable nature and getting them far away to safety as quickly as possible.

The two of them hadn’t even a moment to speak to each other properly since Knight-Commander Meredith’s demise. It had been absolute chaos outside The Gallows. Mages and Templars alike still fought, unaware that Cullen had called a halt to the Right of Annulment. Citizens, panic-stricken and severely injured lay among the ruins of the decimated southern Hightown, calling out for help. The City Guard helped in the evacuation, but their numbers were too few to make any severe impact. A smattering of brave mages had chosen to eschew the fighting in favour of healing those who needed it most. To his amazement, Fenris had even noticed elves from the Alienage run to aid where they could, lifting debris and applying poultices on the wounds of Humans, Dwarves and even the odd Qunari alike. It was an oddly inspiring sight, in light of everything else.

The group had still been shaken from the fight with The Knight-Commander. Their stamina utterly depleted, healing aids almost finished, it was all they could do to amble past remaining ongoing battles to safety, defending themselves exhaustedly only when they had to.

“There was a few minutes back there, Hawke,” Varric had said, his eyes wide. “I was pretty sure we were ninety-nine percent fucked.”

“Only ninety-nine?” Hawke asked. He passed Aveline his last healing potion, his magical energy too drained to help her himself.

“Well, okay. Maybe a bit more than that. When the giant statues came to life.”

It had been loosely agreed amongst them that it was best to get out of Kirkwall for the time being. At least until the Templars stopped provoking the demons out of terrified mages. The group had split into three teams then, Hawke called for them to meet at The Docks in forty minutes, and to be careful.

Fenris largely suspected that Hawke had no idea what he was doing, but was determined to leave Kirkwall behind him, no matter what. He was acting out of rage and fear, but Fenris was glad for it. Had Hawke been more stable minded, he would have refused to leave Kirkwall while people were still being hurt, and he would have died for it. As for Fenris, this wasn’t the first time he'd fled a town. Or the second, or the third for that matter. But it _was_ the first time he was sorry to have to leave. Somehow, he had ended up with a life in Kirkwall, a home and a family of sorts. He had grown comfortable with the routine he’d fallen into over the past decade; the thought of leaving it brought him no happiness.

The main reception of the estate was deceptively cosy and warm in stark contrast to the hell unleashed outside. He bent down to pet Dog who barked happily, oblivious to all of it. Fenris hadn’t called the Amell estate his home exactly, but he had made many happy memories here. To the first time he wrote his own name in the library, to Messere Leandra gifting him with her home made flowery soaps, to making love to Hawke for the first time, and every glorious time since then. He sighed. What would become of them now, he wondered. He was caught between being overwhelmed in his relief at Hawke surviving the battle, and his fear that something might yet take him from Fenris. He resolved then to protect Hawke, no matter the cost. He could not bear to lose him.

Fenris felt his ears twitch as he became aware of the fact that could no longer hear the mage scrambling around upstairs. He climbed the staircase quickly, calling his name. He let his bulging pack that hung off one shoulder drop to the floor as he entered the bedroom.

“Hawke?”

He was on his knees, hunched over and small on the rug in front of his bed. With his back to Fenris, he could see clearly how Hawke’s shoulders trembled.

“How could he have done this?” Hawke whispered quietly. Fenris scowled, he knew exactly to whom Hawke was referring. He glanced around the bedroom. It was already stripped of anything of use or sentimental value. It made it feel bare despite it still being richly furnished and the fire that crackled away in the hearth. The quiet of the house lay thick. It was eerie, yet comforting; not dissimilar to the atmosphere in The Chantry, even the shuffle of his feet on the carpet somehow felt blasphemous to it. 

He didn’t want to dwell on that thought now. Fenris went to Hawke’s side and sat down beside him, their thighs and shoulders resting against each other. There was a crumpled sheet of paper encased in Hawke’s fist. Fenris recognised the writing immediately. _Anders’s manifesto_ . Fenris wondered what would become of the man; if he would have stayed in Kirkwall to help, or if he had fled with the other mages. Fenris scoffed as he snatched the offending piece of paper from Hawke. He would we willing to bet a lot of money that he wouldn’t be long loved by the mages in the aftermath of this mess. ‘ _A world of shit is gonna come down on their heads now_ ,’ Varric had said. Fenris agreed readily. Why Hawke had allowed Anders to live, Fenris couldn’t fathom. Anders had practically begged to die, the coward. Fenris would have killed him in a second if he had been given the chance. _Monster_ , he thought angrily.

He snarled, “the weak and the selfish truly have no limit on the horror they will inflict on others to suit their own needs.” He’d seen it again and again.

“Yeah,” he sighed, his voice sounded distant. “What an arsehole.”

Fenris laughed, as did Hawke, a little deliriously. “That's one word, yes.”

Unlike Hawke, Fenris wouldn’t have let Anders leave with his life, but he knew it wasn't in Hawke's nature to kill someone he once called ' _friend_ '. Hawke’s reaction had been strong regardless and Fenris could only recall seeing him quite like that once before. When Fenris had stupidly let himself be captured by the rogue Mage slash Templar Alliance led by Grace and Thrask, Hawke had become almost unhinged. Fenris had groggily awoken to see Hawke soaked in blood and shaking violently, his breathing harsh, his eyes ablaze as Fenris had never seen them before. He had been ruthless, and without mercy to his captors and their accomplices. Even Aveline had been unable to calm him. When Hawke had realised what Anders’s plan had been all along, it was a similar furious display.

\--

The sound of Hawke’s backhanded wallop on Anders’s unnervingly calm face had rung out loud, even over the shrieking chaos around them. Anders fell to the ground with the force of it, but made no pained sound. Beside him, Aveline gasped.

“How could you?” Hawke screamed. “Look at what have you _done_!”

“There can be no half measures," Anders called, calm and steady as you like. "I have removed the chance of compromise because there _is_ no compromise.”

“You monster,” Hawke breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Do you spare no thought for anyone but yourself?”

“I might be a monster,” Anders said, the first creep of some tremulous emotion breaking in his voice. “But I did this for _all_ mages.”

“What?” Hawke spat, disgusted. He gripped Anders by his feathered collar and raised him by it from the dirt, almost choking him. Merrill stepped forward as though to interfere, but was stopped by Varric. “You think you did this for _us_? The mages, who as we speak are being slaughtered in their beds? I can’t save them, Anders! Hundreds will have died tonight because of you.” He dropped him roughly and his hands shook. Fenris longed to go to him, but knew it wasn’t the right moment. “And Maker only knows what you have started, Anders," Hawke continued, his face twisted with an ugly fury. "This night will not be the end of this mess, or of the shit mages have to face. If anything, you have made it a thousand times worse.”

Anders did have the brass neck to look wrought then. “There is nothing you can say to me that I haven't already said to myself. It will hurt _now_ , tonight, for some time after tonight, even. _I know this_ . But the result will be freedom for all mages; freedom from fear and persecution and imprisonment...and _slavery_ for simply being born.”

Fenris grit his teeth until it hurt. Anders knew nothing of _being a slave_ . The mere invocation of the word, and applying it to the _powerful_ angered Fenris deeply.

“That’s what we’ll tell the parents of the five year olds murdered tonight,” Hawke said darkly. “That you thought you were saving them?”

Fenris gasped. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. He’d truly forgotten about the children in the Circle. Would the Templars really go that far, he wondered. Young children were normally sent to other Circles within The Free Marches for early education, but there would still be plenty in The Gallows waiting for the next ship to arrive.

“Maker have mercy,” Aveline muttered darkly, the realisation just dawned on her also, it seemed.

“Don’t you see, Hawke?” Anders called out. “They shouldn’t even _have_ that right! I'm not even a Circle mage. They will kill the children for no reason other than that they _can!_ ”

“Because you _pushed_ them to it, you forced Meredith’s hand, how did you think she would react?”

“We gotta make a move, Hawke,” Varric interrupted, his voice tired and unhappy. “We don’t have time to sit here and debate. Make a choice. I’m sick of this whole sorry mess.”

Anders had shown up in The Gallows not long after that, looking to help. Hawke dismissed him without so much as a second glance. Fenris wouldn’t lie to himself; it gave him no small amount of pleasure to see him turned away so.

 _Who's the wild dog now, mage_ , he thought.

\--

“Oh, what have I gotten us into now?” Hawke said with a sad hiccough. Fenris kissed the side of his head and held him for a moment.

They were worn out, physically _and_ emotionally. Even in the warm light of the bedroom, Hawke looked utterly drained. Sitting back, Fenris ran a hand through his dark, rough hair and he leaned into it, swaying where he sat, his eyes closed. Fenris wished he could let Hawke sleep; mages required food and substantial slumber to recuperate after performing taxing magics. But now wasn’t the moment to rest, or grieve. They still had an arduous journey ahead of them and time was of the essence.

“You couldn’t have done anything to stop this, Hawke. Everyone tonight made their own choice, regardless of your good opinion.”

“That’s not true. I shouldn’t have helped Anders in the first place. I knew something was off, but I went along with it anyway. I let him guilt me into it because I didn’t want him to think that I…didn’t care, I suppose. I’m just as much to blame as he is.”

“You are not,” said Fenris with tart certainty. “If you hadn’t have done it, he would have just as easily found some other to help. You were just…trying to get through to a friend. Your…kindness is one of your finest qualities. I’m sorry it backfired so, Hawke.”

Hawke gave him a sad, little smile. “Thank you, Fenris. Honestly, you’re…” he reached to hold Fenris’s face with both hands delicately. He kissed him gently, reverently and Fenris allowed himself a moment to melt into it, Hawke’s beard tickling his face. Fenris sighed happily, as their mouths moved together sweetly and intimately.

“Thank the Maker you're alright, Fenris. What would I do without you,” Hawke asked as they parted, a little breathless. “I love you, Fenris, you know.”

Fenris smiled, even in the face of all this, Hawke was a constant source of peace and joy to him. “And I, you,” he replied. "I love you, Hawke." It was the first time they had said it properly to each other, despite it having been true for many years now. He took Hawke’s rough hands in his own and squeezed them hard. He was tired, yes, but he had to be strong for Hawke a little while longer. He kissed him again, softly, lingered and took a long moment to savour the bursting feeling in his chest. “Now come, we haven’t any more time to spare. Do you have everything we need?”

“It’ll have to do,” Hawke said, giving his room one last mournful glance as they made their way out and down the stairs. “Hopefully one day we can come back here.” He whistled for Dog to follow them.

“Hopefully,” Fenris agreed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who knows me, knows I am not the biggest Anders fan, but I think I did alright here in portraying him and his views on his actions. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I promised myself I would try to update this weekly, but work, RL dramz and a bit of sadface got in the way. I hope you enjoy reading and as always, I love feedback from you guys.

** The Misfortune of Fate  **

Chapter Two 

When they finally arrived at the docks, they were no more the worse for wear than they had been before they left Hawke's house. They managed to reach the planned rendezvous spot near the old, abandoned Qunari compound after only a couple of skirmishes with looters on the way. The fools had tried to grab their packs in addition to the pilfered bounty they had already acquired from the homes of nobles. They met a bloody end swiftly by Fenris's blade and were spared no further thought. Hawke was maybe a little shocked, but Fenris was in no mood to waste time balking and struggling with bandits. Generally when they fought with desperate and petty criminals they would kill one or two to make a point that they weren’t to be trifled with, and nine times out of ten, the rest fled sharpish. Not tonight though, Fenris could only think of getting Hawke to safety. He was all that mattered and he would cut through anyone that got in his way.

“Do you see them? Isabela and Varric should be here already,” Hawke said, craning his neck. Fenris shook his head.

It would be difficult in this mess, Fenris thought, taking a moment to observe the building chaos around them. With the battle taking place in Hightown, the Docks were _mostly_ empty of people looking for a fight. Instead, it was teeming with frantic citizens of every class and race bartering for safe passage to anywhere they could afford; luckily there were many ships of various sizes that still remained anchored to the docks. The fear and desperation was rife in the air, dank, thick and contagious like a spreading plague. It reminded Fenris starkly of his time in Seheron, and when the Arishok had attempted to destroy Kirkwall. He’d been involved in enough fights to last several lifetimes, Fenris realised. As had Hawke. And neither of them were even remotely close to being free from it yet. The thought alone wracked another heavy sigh from him.

There were plenty of fire torches lit, but it was still dark, damp and smoggy. The warmth of the day had lingered into the night and a weak, drizzling rain slowly soaked them through. It was humid and unpleasant and he grumbled so to Hawke whose only answer was to smile at him fondly. He was startled as he felt Hawke dab lightly at the corner of his lip with his rough hands, a worried expression on his face. He caught a glimpse of a bloodstain on his pale fingers as Hawke stepped back from him, apparently satisfied that the blood on his face was not Fenris's. It was a brief, but much needed distraction from his darkening thoughts. He marvelled. How did Hawke always know where his thoughts travelled?

The townspeople's violent, panicked cries began to mingle with the assorted ship's crews calling out prices and destinations; it created a deafening cacophony that made them all practically indistinguishable from each other. Seamen were nothing if not opportunistic apparently. The streets were an obstacle course of assorted belongings and crates that had either been abandoned or forbidden onboard and –  _speaking of opportunistic seamen_. Fenris suddenly spotted Isabela, rifling away through a trunk of particularly rich looking clothing, Varric at her side, eyebrow raised. He pointed, and with a shout from Hawke they turned to meet him in a tight embrace, all blatantly relieved that they had made it safely. Behind them, Fenris nodded his own greeting with a smirk as Hawke peeled himself from them. He hadn’t worried about them for even an instant. He’d never met such fearsome fighters as those two in his life. They were all getting a bit older now, but that didn't seem to have affected Isabela or Varric in the slightest. Then again, Fenris supposed he was a little older than them, although he would never truly know.

As they still had a little time before Aveline and Merrill could be declared late, they pulled out their maps and debated about what they should do now. They agreed they all had to get out of Kirkwall at least for a short time. Even if they weren’t blamed and prosecuted for the events that transpired today (which seemed unlikely by this point), there were at least a dozen other charges they could be taken in for if it was desired. They weren’t innocent people, and if nothing else the public loved a bloody scapegoat in the face of a catastrophe; they and The Chantry would need someone to blame for this. The Champion, an apostate all along, fallen from grace and into the hangman's noose would simply be too delicious for them to resist. The Templars weren’t the only card hidden up The Chantry’s sleeve, Varric informed them, and none of them wanted to wait around to see what that meant.  

“But where to, then?” asked Varric with a sigh, and that was where they were stuck.

Civil war was knocking on the doors of Orlais, it wouldn’t be safe and they had no friends there. There would be nowhere to hide in The Free Marches, they were too recognisable, easily traceable and the areas around Kirkwall would be rife with mage and Templar rioting as they tried to wrangle everything back into order. Rivain, Nevarra and The Anderfels were too far away and Tevinter was point blank out of the question. That left Ferelden or Antiva.

“So, Antiva, the country of Crows,” said Isabela.

“Or freezing Ferelden,” said Varric.

“What a choice,” Fenris groused.

“Hey, Broody. Infamous apostate beggars and their motley crew of criminals accused of blowing up The Chantry can’t be choosers.”

“I’m glad you find this amusing.”

“Are we really being accused of it?” asked Isabela. She didn’t sound too bothered by the idea, Fenris realised. Given her record with Kirkwall already, he could see why it would hardly make a difference by now.

“If we aren’t already, we soon will be. Blondie really did us good this time. Didn’t help with Hawke here screeching ‘ _what did you make me do? Is this why you wanted me to distract the Grand Cleric?_ ’ all over the damn place.”

“Shut up, Varric,” muttered Hawke, though he looked embarrassed and stressed. Fenris tentatively ran a hand down Hawke's arm in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. He was still becoming accustomed to the idea of expressing affection or comfort by touch, even after all this time. Old habits truly did die hard, he told himself. But Hawke knew he cared about him regardless.

“He’s right,” a tense voice came from behind them. In a blink of an eye they all drew their weapons. They were armed and ready before the speaker had even finished talking. It was only Aveline, finally, with Merrill in tow. She walked up without hesitation, indifferent to their exposed weaponry. “There are people already saying they saw  _you_  do it, Hawke. There have been whispers of an Exalted March.” Fenris swallowed a lump in his throat and his head snapped up to look to Hawke imploringly. _An Exalted March?_  Varric cursed loudly. Aveline continued as if they hadn't reacted at all. “You’re not safe here,” she said. She looked very sad and very troubled, her bright copper hair and normally gleaming, silver armour dark with debris and dried blood.

Suddenly Fenris noticed she didn’t have a pack with her.  _Of course_ , he thought and something sunk low in his belly.

“Hawke, I’m sorry,” she said. “But I can’t come with you.” Her voice shook, but she walked forward to grip Hawke by the forearms hard and looked him straight in the eye.

“Aveline,” Hawke started.

“I haven’t found Donnic yet. He was working Hightown tonight.”

“Maker,” said Isabela, rubbing her face.

Fenris spat on the ground. Not for the first time tonight he hoped Anders burned in hell for his actions. He swore in Tevene and his fist trembled in his anger. Donnic had been a good friend to Fenris, but he wouldn't have patrolled Hightown armed enough for what had happened tonight. He wouldn't have been even remotely prepared. It would be nothing short of a miracle if Donnic had made it out of there alive. A shuddery breath streamed slowly from his lips as he fought to stay composed and keep his feelings reigned tight in front of everyone. There would be time to grieve later, he told himself. Although maybe, just _maybe_ , there would be no need to grieve at all, he caught himself thinking and it nearly took him by surprise. Fenris had never known himself to be an optimistic, hopeful type of man, but there it was regardless like a flower popping up in the chill of spring: hope that his friend might yet live and go home with his wife.

“I - I’m sure he’s safe,” Aveline continued, the first tremble of emotion altering her voice. “But I can’t run while he’s still out there without me. And...I’m the Captain of the Guard, Hawke. I have to stay and see this mess through. The Guard are the only ones who can help the people now. I have a duty here.” She sounded resolute and strong as ever, despite her obvious exhaustion. Fenris was certain there would be nothing they could say to change her mind. Nor would he want to. This was something Aveline had to do and Fenris had nothing but the deepest respect for her.

“Aveline,” Hawke tried again and his voice was thick and low. Somewhere in the distance of Kirkwall, something lit up anew in an explosion of flame, screams shortly followed. They watched a tower of black smoke and flame rise higher and higher still, smoke and cries spreading over the turrets and towers of Hightown. Aveline turned back to Hawke sharply, her breathing coming in harsh, almost panicked pants. She had lost a spouse before, Fenris remembered being told. He ached for her, he couldn't stand to see Aveline worried and frightened like this.

“There’s no more time. You have to go, Hawke. Don’t even think about trying to wait on me. I’ll send word as soon as I can. Do you know where you’re headed?” She shook her head at herself. “No, wait. Don’t tell me. Not yet. Write when you can. I’ll do everything I can here to clear your name. Mark my word.”

Hawke swallowed and nodded. “I understand,” he said. “Aveline, I don’t know what’s going to come, but, you-“

“Stop it, Hawke,” she said, even as she grasped at him, tears shining in her eyes. “Don’t you dare get sappy on me now!”

Hawke half-laughed, half-choked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They embraced desperately, their armour clanking hard as they bashed off each other. Hawke whispered something to her which Fenris accidentally overheard due to his elfish physiology. “Sorry for making your job so damn hard,” he said. She nodded, laughing and blinked hard. The pinking of the skin around her eyes only made them appear the greener.

“It wouldn't have been half the fun without you, Hawke. Don't die. Don't you dare die,” she whispered hoarsely. When they parted, they were both wiping their eyes with the backs of their hands.

“Stay safe, Captain. I want to come back here someday and meet your beautiful arse-babies.”

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” she groaned and leaned down to pet Dog roughly. While she knelt, she locked eyes with Fenris.

“Fenris, take care of him, won't you? He's a bit pathetic, and doesn't know his arse from his elbow most of the time. But hey. Well. That's it, really.”

“I hope you mean the dog,” Hawke said.

“She doesn't.”

“I don't.”

“Thanks,” Hawke said flatly.

Fenris smirked. “You don't have to worry,” he said. “Tell Donnic that I'll have to rain-check our next card night. Be...careful, won't you, Aveline?”

With a stern nod, she turned to Varric, Isabela and Merrill to say her goodbyes to them just as quickly. It was alarming how final her goodbye felt; it was painful, like a long knife sinking slowly into in his chest. When would they fight together again?

Fenris stroked Hawke's arm once more and Hawke linked their hands. He squeezed it back, hard. Aveline and Hawke were extremely important to each other; he had known so from day one. It would break Hawke's heart if something happened to Aveline or Donnic. He would never forgive himself, whether he was guiltless or not. Fenris said a silent prayer to whoever watched them, The Maker, The Old Gods, The Creators, to anyone listening that his friends escaped this unharmed. Religion for Fenris was a complicated subject, he wasn't sure exactly what he thought existed or ruled, but in this moment he felt he needed to ask someone for this.  _Please,_ he urged silently.

Isabela and Varric's laughter snapped him out of his morose thoughts.

“Goodbye then, you Poxy-Tart,” said Aveline.

“See you later, Man-Chin,” Isabela replied with a tilting grin.

“Stop it, please. You'll make me cry,” said Merrill.

They laughed one more time. Aveline took her regal shield from where it was pinned to her back. She nodded to them, her face serious, her green eyes glittering. She looked like a goddess of reckoning from a storybook; unstoppable and impossibly strong.

“Until next time, then,” she said casually and turned to run back towards Hightown. She didn’t look back. They were silent for a long moment as they watched her. Fenris didn't realise he had been holding his breath until he took a sudden deep, desperate gasp of air.

_Please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaw, I really didn't want to cut out Aveline so early into this as she's obviously one of my favourite characters and I really enjoy her and Hawke's bro/sis dynamic. Sadly, it just didn't make sense for her to run away from Kirkwall while Donnic was still kicking about, plus Varric does say in DAI that Aveline remained in Kirkwall. I also need to cut the cast and get into the good stuff, and some time-skips. Still no idea where I'm going with this story, but please come chit-chat to me on tumblr anytime!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness, I haven't updated this in a VERY long time. Many apologies! It's a little short, but I'm back on the writing train again, so you should see updates coming more frequently. I would love to hear what you think of my characterisation and Fenris POV. I think I re-wrote this 100 times and I really struggled with the tone I wanted to convey about how I think Fenris feels about elves and Merrill as a mage AND as a Dalish.

** The Misfortune of Fate **

Chapter Three

“So, Amaranthine, it is,” said Hawke thoughtfully, scratching at his beard. He folded away his map, roughly shoving it back inside his pack.

Fenris nodded, pleased with the decision they’d finally reached. After much debate, it had become apparent that Amaranthine was the only plausible choice they had. There would be far more places to escape to in Ferelden, and he was hopeful that they would find somewhere they could lay low undisturbed for a while. Ferelden was largely rural and still troubled from the Blight all those years ago. While the King was loved, he was inexperienced in politics and there was much the country had to recover from still. Although Fereldans were a religious and zealous people, hunting a single apostate would be low on their list of concerns, he told himself.

“That means we’re getting on _that_ sorry excuse for a ship,” Isabela drawled sulkily, pointing in the direction of one of the larger ships in the dock. It was a little dilapidated looking, but sturdy and strong enough in Fenris's opinion.

_The Hightail,_ the cracked black letters read across the hull.

“Well, that's apt,” Hawke said dryly.  

“She’ll do,” said Fenris.

“Oh, yes?” Isabela turned to him, eyebrow raised. “Expert in ships now, are you?”

Fenris glowered at her, but said nothing.

Isabela decided to take charge of bartering the price of passage. Boisterously calling for people to get out of her way, her excellent, bodacious hips swayed as she barged through a group of fearful looking elves who were counting out a pitiful amount of coppers between them. One of them, a woman with long blonde hair, began to weep and gathered her threadbare jacket around her as much as she could in the wet air. Fenris felt a twinge of sympathy for them. Ordinarily, he would've thought them pathetic, but in these circumstances their despair could hardly be sniffed at. They were obviously very afraid, and rightly so, for Fenris knew better than anyone that nobody would come to help the elves amidst this mess. They were at least clever enough to try to leave the city, not that Fenris thought for a second that any possible destination on offer tonight would bring them significant safety. But at least they weren’t moping drunkenly and hopelessly waiting for their end to come.

“Look at them,” Merrill said gravely, drawing up to his side. Her dark hair and pale skin an even starker contrast than usual by the light of the moon. “The poor creatures. I wish there was something we could do for them. When I went to fetch my things, the alienage was completely ruined. Everything they ever had is gone and in flames. How they must be feeling…”

“This? This is _nothing_ ,” he snapped, feeling bitter.

He knew he was being unfairly angry at her, but it didn’t stop him. He tired long ago of Merrill. Fenris wasn’t ashamed of the fact that he had held a stiff grudge against Merrill from ‘hello’. Forget the blood magic, which was appalling on its own. But it was her false sense of elven racial superiority for being raised Dalish that infuriated him the most.

Merrill constantly spoke of the plight of _their people_ freely as though she truly spared a thought for the suffering of the elves outside of a righteous indignation that ancient, barren grounds were being looted, arravels were unwelcome and human hunters killed their Halla. The _plights of the Dalish_ were trivial when city elves across the continent were routinely made slaves, raped by humans openly for noblemen _sport_ , and were forced into lives of crime, disease and poverty.

Merrill was ignorant and her recent, delicate revelation that city elves _existed_ after a decade of living aloofly amongst them was unimpressive to him, despite her altruism.

“Possessions and homes mean nothing now,” he said. “This is far from the worst that is yet to come for them. The city will be teaming with slavers before the sun rises tomorrow. Sad, homeless, little elves that humans care nought for will be amongst the first to be snatched; men, women and children alike. The younger the better.” A cruel smirk twisted his face when she gasped. He wanted to lash out at Merrill, he wanted her to _see_ . “If they even _survive_ what remains of this battle, that is.” He laughed humourlessly. “Which is unlikely. Then, to Tevinter with them, chained to brothels, mines and plantations until they die or get too old to be cost effective alive.”

She gaped wordlessly at him for a moment, like a fish out of water.

“Is that really what will happen, Fenris?”

“What do you think, Witch,” he growled, furious. “We fight slavers in Darktown every other week as it is. They couldn’t wish for a better business opportunity; disaster everywhere, no ruling body, mages, Templars and City Guard fighting like a bag of cats. You’ll be lucky to see _any_ elves in Kirkwall this time next week, I’ll wager.”

He didn’t wait to hear her response. He rolled his eyes, and turned away with an angry sigh. He didn’t have the patience for any of it tonight: Merrill’s blathering, his frustration that there _was_ nothing he could do to help the elves in Kirkwall, his worry for Aveline and Donnic, his overwhelming hatred towards Anders for _causing_ all of this, and the exhaustion from battle all weighted down his limbs until they felt like solid lead. A sense of panicked urgency to keep Hawke safe was the only thing that kept him upright. Fenris searched him out, he was talking in hushed tones to Varric, his amber eyes darting around nervously. Fenris sighed again, tiredly this time. The markings on his flesh ached. He only wanted to be near Hawke, to wind his hands through his soft dark hair, to sink into his strong arms and just be held by him.

“Damn it all,” one of the male elves from the group called out.

“Mummy, I'm scared,” a little elf girl appeared from behind her mother's skirts, her longer than normal ears tilted all the way back and down in fear and anxiety.

“What are we to do? We’re going to be killed,” the man continued in a haunted voice.

Merrill was still watching them. Her expression took on a steely, cold quality as she turned and met Fenris’s stare, hard.

“I won’t let that happen,” she said finally, quietly.

He frowned, wondering what she had meant by that as she stalked past him to Hawke.

The little girl began to cry in earnest and he swallowed. He couldn't bear to see fearful children, especially when he knew what was coming for them. Fenris knew he was no hero for the elves, he certainly held a complicated disdain for his kind. The city dwelling elves were often spineless, meek and resigned to their impoverished lives without question or serious resistance and the Dalish, distant and stagnate in a long gone past that would never again come to any semblance of fruition. Both wasted freedom and life, which he despised, yet he found himself wishing better for them all. He felt contempt, but also benevolence towards them. It was an odd combination that didn’t settle well with him.

“What, Daisy? _No_ , you can’t,” Varric said, just within earshot. Fenris walked over to them, a headache forming behind his eyes.

“I can, and I am, Varric,” Merrill said, her melodic voice unwavering. “It’s the right thing to do. For me, that is! Not you! I don’t need you to stay. I am, I mean, not that I _don’t_ want you here, or that I don’t want to go with you. You see-“

“Merrill,” Hawke interrupted, sounding tense.

“Oh, Right. Yes. Sorry. I’m babbling.” She cleared her throat and stood up straight. “I’m sorry, Hawke, but I can’t go with you to Amaranthine. I’m staying in Kirkwall. I have to help the elves here. I have to protect them. The humans here don’t even let them carry weapons; they have no chance. They need _someone_.”

Fenris's eyebrows shot to his hairline. She was truly going to stay here alone to fight for them in this mess? He assessed her with his eyes. He was impressed, if he was honest with himself. He hadn’t expected such a reaction.

“Bloody hell. She’s right,” Hawke said after a long, pregnant pause. “I should stay and help the people here, too. I can’t run away now after I caused all of this.”

“ _No_!” Varric and Fenris’s cry was simultaneous. Suddenly Fenris hated Merrill all over again. Stupid Witch, why did she have to open her big mouth, he thought.

“Hawke,” said Varric slowly. “Look, buddy, I told you. It isn’t safe here. You’ve done enough for this damn city. We need to get you out of here.”

“You’re in danger, Hawke,” said Fenris vehemently. “You heard what Aveline said, the people will want blood for this. Your blood.” He gripped Hawke’s bicep, and added lowly, “I won’t lose you, Hawke. Not for this piss-sodden excuse for a city.”

“Hey now,” grumbled Varric. “It’s only okay when I say it.”

Merrill laughed, a tinkling bell of a thing. “But they’re right, Hawke. Please don’t stay here. This is just something _I_ have to do now. It’s important to me.” She looked back to the group of elves. “For so long I’ve lived with the alienage elves, but never really thought of myself as one of them, too consumed with…well, anyway. That’s not important now. But _they’re_ the ones who truly _need_ my help. They're the real future of the elves, I've ignored their conditions for too long and I’ll never forgive myself if I walk away from them now when they really need a protector. Hawke, you’ve given us all so much, and never abandoned us even during our darkest times. Let us help _you_ now.”

“Shit, Daisy,” said Varric.

Hawke turned to look into Fenris’s pleading gaze. Don’t do something stupid and noble, _please_ , Fenris thought.

“If...it's really what you want, Merrill,” said Hawke weakly. He looked like he hated himself, but Fenris breathed a sigh of relief.   

“It truly is,” Merrill said with a smile. “Please don't worry about me. And...this way I'll be able to help Aveline too.”

“What?” Isabela was back, a handful of passage stamps clenched in her fist by her thigh. Her knuckles were white and her full mouth was pinched into a harsh line.

“Isabela,” Merrill started, her voice heavy-hearted and expression suddenly crestfallen. “I'm not coming with you. I c-can't.”

“Yes, I did get that much, Kitten,” she said, voice rigid. “What I _need_ to know is, just how much you've lost your mind.” Her tone was light, but there was thinly concealed anger there.

“Let's give them a moment,” Varric said, ushering the group away from the two women. When Fenris looked at Hawke, there was a matching bewildered look on his face.

“Wait, they’re _together_?” Hawke said.

“You’re lucky you’re so pretty, Hawke,” Varric said. “How did you _not_ know?” He chuckled, shook his head and went to gather their packs, leaving Hawke and Fenris alone for the moment.

Fenris hadn’t suspected either. But he couldn’t care less about Merrill and Isabela’s romantic attachment, he finally had Hawke’s attention again. Hawke reached slowly to stroke Fenris’s cheek, with a slow, warm smile and Fenris melted into the touch, his hands going to Hawke’s thick, sturdy waist to steady himself.

“I’ve never been to Amaranthine,” Fenris said.

“I’ve been almost everywhere in Ferelden. Amaranthine’s a bit of a shithole,” said Hawke with a shy laugh. “But we’ll go from there, and see where we end up.”

Fenris was keen to get the maps out again, anxious to have some form of plan in place ahead of docking into the city. But Hawke kissed the top of his head, and Fenris decided to enjoy this moment while he had it.

“Are you alright, Fenris?” Hawke asked.

“I should be asking you that. You must be exhausted. Do you need something to eat?”

“I’m fine,” Hawke said, sounding impossibly fond. “Just another Tuesday, after all.”

Fenris chuckled and they leaned into each other more. “So it would seem,” he said. Then after a moment, “I...ache, everywhere,” he finally admitted, embarrassed by it. Hawke rubbed at his temple and Fenris sighed.

“The markings?”

Fenris hummed. “Yes, I have used their power tonight more than ever before. I will be glad when we can finally rest.”

“Me too. Not much longer.” Hawke’s hand left his face and instead reached down to take both his hands in his. “Fenris, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice thick.

“What are you talking about?” Fenris said, frowning.

“You’re leaving everything behind again, because of me. Please, don’t feel you have to. This probably wasn’t what you had in mind when you said you’d stay by my side. I want you safe and happy, Fenris, even if that means you...aren’t with me.” He swallowed.

“Stop,” Fenris said sternly, his eyes narrowing. He chewed his lip, the idea that Hawke still didn’t know how much Fenris _needed_ him was infuriating. “Hawke…” He took a breath. “ _You’re_ my everything, Hawke. I’m leaving nothing behind _because_ I’ll be by your side.” He threw a hand up to grasp at the back of Hawke’s neck. He pulled him down towards him and kissed him soundly.

“I hope I’ve made my feelings clear,” Fenris growled, pulling back.

Hawke smiled, the brightness of it disarming and wonderful.

“Crystal,” he said, and kissed him. His arms wrapped around Fenris’s waist and pulled him close. It wasn’t a kiss of sensual passion, but of desperation and need and longing and everything they wanted to say to each other, but had no time to.

I am yours, Fenris thought. I am yours forever, Hawke.

* * *

 Not long after, Merrill left. Watching her go, shoulders back and staff already glowing fiercely, Fenris felt a surprising sense of pride for her. He knew it wasn't his place to feel proud or not; he wasn't her father, clansman or even her friend, but nevertheless, there it was, warming his heart and renewing his strength. Perhaps he'd judged her wrongly, he thought, or maybe it was only because now she was learning the error of her ways. Whatever it was, Fenris felt certain that at least some of the elves of Kirkwall would go unharmed because of her actions tonight and he was suddenly grateful to know Merrill, blood mage or not.   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know right?! Three chapters in and I've already cut Anders, Aveline and Merrill from the story. Who will be next? I threw in a little secondary pairing there as I always got the Isabela/Merrill vibe, didn't you? Anyway! Would love to get some feedback, I take my writing super seriously, so I'm always open to concrit and discussion of characterisation. Also, please come say hello on tumblr, I'm always up for some chitchat about these loons.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are my life force. You can also find me on tumblr. Come [ say hi on there too! ](http://captaincorale.tumblr.com) It would make my day and I take prompts and sometimes write cutesy headcanons, drabbles there that I wouldn't post here. I also whine about fandom lore a lot, be warned, hah. :-)
> 
> If you enjoyed my work, please consider [ buying me a coffee ](http://https://ko-fi.com/cptncorale/) so I can sit and write in coffee shops and be super powered with caffeine!


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